Reprieve
by bhindthemask
Summary: Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.
1. After the Fall

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note:** Welcome! This is my second Les Miserables fanfic. I really wanted to showcase Javert, as he is certainly one of my favorite characters and one of the more complex in the story. I see this story turning somewhat scandalous for some reasons that will have to remain secret for now. However, I hope you bear with me and look deeper into it than just the widely preferred pairings. Hmm. :/

**Chapter 1**

- After the Fall

_It was so cold—so very cold. It hit him like millions of needles, each and every one piercing through to the bone. It was impossible to breath, and not just because the Seine was caving into his nose and mouth, drowning him. The lengthy fall alone had been enough to dizzy him, let alone the severe temperature of the water. It only took him seconds to become aware of his new aquatic surroundings because almost immediately he lost consciousness._

When he opened his eyes next, he was met with the harshest of lights. His eyes stung and refused to remain peeled. It was as if he had not seen the sun all of his life. He managed to turn his head, very slowly and very carefully, toward the source where the light was the brightest. Gradually, his vision returned to him. He was patient with it; and, it revealed to him a stone wall with a wooden window carved into it. It was only then, at the appearance of this material thing, that he was struck with a shocking revelation.

"I am alive!" he croaked.

He nearly cried out in alarm once again at the surprise of his own voice. It was not the voice he remembered. It was worn out and weak. His hand went up to move instinctively to clutch at his throat, but a sharp pain wrecked his body the moment he brought motion to the limb. He grunted and gritted his teeth. Not only were the muscles bruised and fragile, but they were also tight and sore from lack of use.

He breathed deeply, which was no less troublesome. The strain had caused his heart to pick up to account for the action. He sank back into the feather mattress underneath him. He almost expected to find himself drowning once more, except this time it would be in a sea of material and feathers.

He heard a wooden door at the end of the room creak open. He could not see it, for his eyes had shut again and he feared moving again would cause another bout of pain. The clicking of footsteps crossed the floorboards to his bedside before leaving off in silence. There was a thud he could not recognize then a quiet splash. Droplets hit whatever water was nearby. Despite all of the forewarnings, he still gasped in surprise when he felt the cold cloth hit his forehead.

"Ah," came a husky feminine voice, "so you are awake."

Even if it was out of pure curiosity, he cracked open his eyelids and stared up at the woman who addressed him. She looked to be of middle age and of the working class. Her dirty blonde hair had been pulled back from her freckled face, contained to restrain it from getting in the way of her duties. Her dirt-brown bodice was laced up until her large bust prevented it from doing so. She balanced one hand on her hip and peered down expectantly at him.

He shrunk away, or as much as was possible, subduing a disgusted curl of his lip. The best he could accomplish was turning his head in the opposite direction so he would not have to look upon her any longer. Despite his situation, there was opposition that dwelled within him regarding someone of her stature in life.

Yet, she found some amusement in this reluctance. She scoffed, peeling the cloth from his forehead and dipping it into the basin of water she had brought in with her.

"What a way to greet the one who pulled you from the river," she complained.

He scowled in her direction. "You?" he questioned disgustedly and incredulously.

"Yes," she confirmed. "And if you don't watch it, I'll toss you right back in."

He bit his lip, stifling the retort he was prepared to utter on her behalf. After all, a more humane part of him thought, she had rescued him. That is, if what she claimed was the actual truth.

"Where am I?" he shot in his new coarser voice. He was steadily becoming more accepting of it. He kept his gaze on the inner wall opposite that of the one with the window. If she required civility, he at least did not have to look at her while acquiescing to it.

"Le Petit Hirondelle," she pronounced, placing the cloth carefully back onto his warm forehead.

"What the hell is that?"

"It's my tavern, you are in one of the rooms in my tavern," she explained.

"And who might you be?" he drawled, not even sure himself if he wanted to hear the answer. It was more out of necessity that he learned the answers to these questions than any want to know.

"Madame Loriel to you—the proprietor of this humble establishment." She seemed quite proud of this fact. "But perhaps the more pertinent question at hand is who are you?" She raised an eyebrow expectantly.

He scoffed. "That is the silliest question I have ever heard. I suppose there's no getting around your incompetence, though. I'm…" But he trailed off before he could introduce himself.

His voice caught in his dry, sore throat. He turned his head toward Madame Loriel wearing a rather confused and frustrated expression. His eyes looked accusingly at the strange woman, but she just continued to stare at him skeptically.

"This is absurd," he excused. "My name is…" But again he trailed off. He hesitated. "I'm…"

"Are you having trouble remembering, dearie?" she asked, concern actually evident in her tone.

"No!" he insisted defensively. "Of course not! This is simply ridiculous. I am not required to explain myself to someone as low as you!"

He again turned his head away, this time more resolute. In actuality, he was more disappointed in his own self than actually irritated at her. Why was he unable to utter a name—his name? Why was it so hard to remember? The harder he attempted to think, the denser his brain felt and the greater the ache knocked against his skull. He wasn't one to give up, though, just because the going was tough. Even if he didn't know his own name, he at least knew that much.

He felt that he should be panicking at that moment. He was in a strange house with an even stranger woman tending to him and completely unable to remember his own name. The only clear memory in his head at that moment was freezing water rushing at his face, pounding against his cheeks, and altogether consuming him. Yet, he would not allow this dreadful woman to see him under any distress. Well, that was, any other than what she had already found him in.

"It's alright. You don't need to strain yourself," she cooed. It was rather eerie the change in her attitude and tone. It unsettled him. She once again collected the towel from his forehead. "I know who you are."

"What?" he shot, incredulous. His head whipped in her direction so quickly that he was surprised he hadn't strained his neck in the process. However, this leak of information bothered and disturbed him so much that he wouldn't have cared either way.

"Of course." She looked preoccupied, gathering the items she had just brought in.

"Then why this charade? You know who I am?"

"How could I not know the man who ordered the soldiers to kill my dear husband and son?" She peered over at him through some fallen strands of hair. The expression in her eyes was of the strongest malice and hatred that he had ever seen. It took him quite aback, even if he refused to show it. The only evidence of this was a small gasp of air that escaped his lips.

"E-Excuse me?" he stammered, rather apart from himself. He attempted to maintain his stoic, if not dismissive, exterior.

"That's who you are, isn't it?" She stared at him accusingly now, with the wash basin and towel in hand. "You are Javert, Inspector Javert."

His eyes went wide and suddenly all of the memories before the plunge came rushing back to him. It sent his head reeling and aching even more so than before. He had a name now, and a past. He had a history. He had memories and a life.

"I see you remember now," Madame Loriel commented.

"I should be dead," he breathed, still thinking back to his plummeted from the bridge into the icy Seine.

"Trust me, dearie," she sighed, "there are many who wish you were."

Suspicion surged Javert at this response. He peered at her with all of the mistrust contained in his body. "I do not doubt that you must be one of them. So, why haven't you taken your revenge yet?"

"You don't have to worry about me, Inspector. I won't harm you."

"Why not?"

A small smile cracked her lips. "I have my reasons." She moved toward the door of the room. "You are in my hands now, Inspector Javert," she called behind her. "And they are good hands."

She turned back to him with the door open, before exiting. "You brought horror and death upon me, monsieur. However, I shall bring you kindness and understanding. Think of this as a second chance—a new life. Good bye for now, Inspector."

Madame Loriel closed the squeaky door behind her. Javert stared after her feeling even more exhausted than when he had first awoken. A few seconds passed before a scowl resumed its natural place upon his face and he rolled away and shut his eyes.


	2. A Change Begins

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note: **To clear things up, first of all, this story is not about Javert and Madame Loriel hooking up. That is not going to happen, so if that was what you were expecting, I apologize. She is merely a nice lady helping him back onto his feet. Also, I want to give a shout out to my friend for coming up with pretty much the entire character of Madame Loriel and assisting in looking over my writing. I forgot to add that the translation of the tavern name is supposed to be "The Little Swallow," but I am not at all good at French, so it could very much be wrong. I apologize in advance for the poor French, but I will attempt to always put translations at the bottom.

**Chapter 2**

- A Change Begins

Javert recoiled quite automatically from the image reflected back in the bit of glass. It was certainly not an image he recognized. The pale blue eyes staring back seemed dull and tired. The dark circles beneath those eyes attested to that, as well. His hair, which had been dark and full in his youth, had become streaked and almost completely invaded by gray. A large beard had even sprouted upon his chin, almost entirely hiding the pale, sickly complexion beneath it. All of his locks were knotted and matted. His cheeks had sunken in and had not yet recovered with the constant hearty meals. He despised what he saw in that mirror. It disgusted him, for it reminded him of everything, all of those people he hated.

He dashed the piece of glass down, which cracked beneath his palm against the wooden surface of the small side table. He pretended not to notice the pain and gazed out of the window of his small, yet comfortable room. Well, it wasn't necessarily his, but might as well have been. He had remained its occupant since the first time he had staid the night, before he had been strong enough to even get up from the little cot. Though technically a guest room in the tavern, he was never expected to owe anything or vacate the premises.

Just below the window, the Seine flowed steadily away from the city. Its surface appeared placid and calm, very much unlike the turmoil just below. Javert knew from experience just how unpredictable that water could be. He shivered despite himself at the very thought of experiencing it again. Yet, he felt he could relate to that dangerous snaking river. He was constantly focused on maintaining his stolid demeanor, while his insides raged against his current predicament.

The return of his memories brought upon a harsh realization, as well. He recalled a world he used to live in until it had all come crashing down. And that had been due to just one man. He still could not believe it. One man had managed to destroy his entire view of the world in a single moment. He had always followed one single path in his life because he had had to in order to survive. He had decided when he had been but a child to wholly obey and even become an emissary of the law. Since, his world had been nothing but black and white.

Now there were grays of every shade. A new path had been forged, and he currently stood at a fork in the road with indecision on which route to take. Both were so completely different and offered such diverse things. One was all too familiar and the other was incredibly new. Newness was alarming and unfamiliar. However, he was never one to back down. He could still maintain his probity, his candor, his unrelenting faith along this new road, but the cost would be his old convictions. There was no possibility that those would ever be the same anyway. Not anymore.

Javert took a deep breath. This was it. This was what he had tried to escape before, when he had jumped from that bridge. It was time to make a decision. It was time to pick a path—a new destiny. It was time to look upon the world with fresh eyes and a fresh perspective.

He clenched his hand into a fist, causing the minute cuts in his palm from the broken glass to dapple with blood. He was resolute in his decision and there was no turning back now.

"Javert," he whispered slowly and to himself, "is nothing now." He stared at the Seine's calm exterior—the beauty that its surface and depths had to offer. Even with it raging underneath, it still flowed as one. It gave, while maintaining its magnificent power. "Another story must begin."

* * *

The next few months saw quite a change in Javert, not only physically, but also spiritually and mentally. True enough he began to return to his previous bodily shape. His cheeks puffed out and regained a healthy coloring; he put on weight in all of the places that truly needed it; newly added muscle mass grew on his arms and legs from the chores he assisted Madame Loriel with. All the while, his hair and beard continued to grow.

Madame Loriel would often comment, "You need a good trimming. You are starting to look like one of your convicts."

In which, Javert would always reply, "What better way to start a second life than in the complete opposite direction of the first?"

He had grown accustomed to the woman, whose family he had so mercilessly butchered—or how he now held the opinion. However, there was still some unbridled derision held against her due to her sex, for she never warranted such behavior through her kindly and understanding character. Some parts of a man are wholly ingrained into him. For Javert, that was his past. Or, more specifically, his birth.

The woman he knew as his mother had been nothing but a common whore—perhaps the lowliest type of person he considered in this world. She had given life to him from inside of a dirty prison cell, and what a life that became! From the moment he could individually think and consider, he had chosen the path entirely opposite that of his origins. It was due to this woman, however, and her convict lover, his father, that had given him such prejudice against the lower, sordid life forms. After all, they had condemned him with their sins. They had made it impossible for him to stand upright in society. They were the ones responsible for giving him only two options in life. He could either sink like them or swim; he could choose to live with the rats in the gutters or else live looking down on them. And so, he chose.

He had retained a deep animosity for women and criminals alike. He wasn't used to putting his trust into anyone, as he had never done so before in his entire life. He had only ever been able to rely upon the system, upon justice. But, even now that proved to be futile. At the moment, he was in the strange and awkward place of trying to create a new beginning for himself, while still being strongly afflicted by the demons of his past.

Yet, as the days went by, his spirit gradually began to feel lighter than it had ever felt before. It was not his location, as the tavern was still situated within the confines of Paris, though perhaps in a sector where he had never dreamed he would dare go. It couldn't have been the clientele, since all drinkers share a common bond in some way, shape, or form, the likes of which tended to disgust Javert. He could only suppose it to be the curious company he now found himself in day after day.

Madame Loriel's cheery attitude was nothing less than contagious. He did not find himself missing his old scowl after it simply vanished a week or two into his captivity. Her ideals regarding work and labour were something to be admired, he decided. They were not very much unlike his own once. Through hard-work and dedication, determination and physical exertion, anything was achievable. The body would not only profit from the stress, but the soul would also.

Javert's views and considerations of the public proved to be much more challenging to sculpt. After all, isn't that always the case? It became much like a process of schooling. However, his lessons were out in the real world. Madame Loriel took him around to the neighboring poor and sickly. Though adverse to the notion at first, he gradually acquiesced to the visits. Mostly, the people they visited were friends of hers and by talking with them and getting insight into their lives , he was able to understand a bit more of their condition. That isn't to say he suddenly agreed with and accepted their existence. Only that perhaps his condemnation of them lessened to a degree.

Unavoidably, the day did come six months down the road when it was time for Javert to leave the tavern he had grown contended with. He sat down with a new mirror to inspect himself once again. Perhaps he was curious as to whether or not his hard spiritual work had yielded any physical results. But perhaps it was more likely that he was just preparing himself for his departure the next day.

Though the sun was setting and extinguishing all of the light from the sky just outside of the window, he was still able to catch a glimpse of his face. At first, he hardly recognized himself. There was certainly a gleam in his eyes unlike any he had ever seen before. It was due to that that he nearly did not recognize the reflection staring back. The longer he stared, though, the more he recognized features of the old Javert in the new man reflected in the glass. He could make out the chiseled jaw beneath the bushy beard and scruff. The hooked nose had always been there, even if just slightly hidden now. The face was long and worn, seemingly more so than it had been in previous years. Wrinkles had multiplied across his forehead and at the edge of his eyes. Instead of revealing age, like they would have before, they now appeared to speak of wisdom and trial.

He couldn't help feeling that the man in the mirror looked like he was drowning in the mass of hair on and around his face. Perhaps even more disturbing was a sudden flash of all of those he had presided over and harmed in his past. He knew he was no longer the man he used to be, but at the same time he could not be any of the other men that could have been called more honorable.

That was why he lifted the blade with his heart pounding against his ribcage and ran it through a handful of his beard. The strands fell away once he opened up his palm and fluttered easily to the floor. It took only a minute or two more to clear away the rest of the stray hair, so that all that remained was a somewhat cropped and groomed, yet messy result. Studying his reflection again, he believed that he now saw the new Javert—the man he had now become and the man he was still working on.

Javert rose early the next morning, hardly having been able to sleep in the first place. It was the day he was to look for his new niche in the world and that would require a lot of searching. If he was not prepared to make an early start of it then he would not find success.

He wetted his locks to give them a cleaner appearance and kept them loose and free-flowing around his shoulders. His facial hair had been gone over to present a neater outcome. He was not giving too much concern over his appearance, just enough to appear presentable. The clothes he adorned were nothing more than leftovers Madame Loriel had from her husband. They fit him nicely, though perhaps hung rather loosely. It was a simple cotton shirt overlaid with a brown vest and lightweight slacks covered the brown boots he had received. It was a very significant difference from his previous attire, but it accommodated for the season and the new look. Therefore, he couldn't necessarily protest.

Madame Loriel was waiting for him by the open front door with a satchel filled with what had to be provisions and other necessities. He offered her a rather grateful look as he relieved her of its slight weight.

"Leaving so soon?" she inquired innocently.

He had never come right out and explained the situation to her or imparted his need to set out on his own. It was merely assumed that one day the time would come. Now, it was here.

"The time has come," Javert muttered, not committing too much.

"Well you just remember everything you've accomplished here, Inspector Javert," she instructed. Then she thought a moment. "Inspector Javert. You know, if you go around using your same old name, word is going to spread pretty quickly that you are in fact alive and well. I would hate to see what kind of trouble that could land you in. If you ask me, you would be wise to travel under an alias."

Javert sighed, trying very hard to maintain patience, but couldn't help the annoyance she seemed to awaken in him. "What did you have in mind?"

She hesitated a moment. "My husband's name was Jori, Jori Cortelle. You are welcome to adopt his if you wish." She studied his features, attempting to get a read of what he was thinking and what he was going to say. However, that was impossible. So instead, she waited anxiously for an answer. It was a big move for her to offer up her deceased husband's name for the man who ordered his death to use. He must have understood this.

"A name is a name, I suppose," he muttered eventually. "One should be just as good as another."

Madame Loriel smiled appreciatively. "Well go on then before I change my mind."

Javert nodded, tote over his shoulder and a new name on his heart. He got a few meager paces past her before halting and looking back over his shoulder. He knew he was strong enough to leave, but he could not deny the tie that bound him to that place and, though he hated to admit it, that woman. He owed her more than he could say.

"A thank you is in order, I suppose," he mumbled.

"Ah, no need, monsieur," she returned with her naturally brusque manner. "The pleasure was all mine. Now get lost before I decide to make a bill for your stay."

Javert swung back around and walked on into the daylight. Just as he was roaming out of earshot, he caught one last word from the woman who had saved his life.

"Some people," she huffed to herself. "Save their lives and suddenly they think they are welcome for good." And the front door squeaked shut behind her.

Javert mentally commented on this typicality of her. At the same time, though, he smiled very small to himself, while trudging further and further along the road.


	3. In the Jardin du Luxembourg

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note: **So that is all of Madame Loriel. She was just a short appearance to send Javert on the right track. As of right now, I do not see her reappearing in the future. As for Javert, now the real fun starts. This might be the beginning of where the story gets a little strange or questionable, but hang in there. As always, I open for comments, questions, concerns, advice, etc.

**Chapter 3**

- In the _Jardin du Luxembourg_

The streets of Paris had never seemed as foreign as they did right then. The people bustling by on the streets appeared more like ghouls patrolling their territory against a foreign entity. Javert could not help staring at them with wide nervous eyes and a defensive attitude. It wasn't that he hadn't been allowed to go out and walk the streets when staying at the tavern. He had just never had the desire to venture out. He had been quite content hiding away from the rest of the world.

Javert kept his head down and his eyes averted as he walked down the street, much like a repentant peasant. There was no doubt in his mind that he would go unrecognized, but he was still edgy and a bit nervous. He realized that the transformation had not only occurred for him physically, but it also showed through in his gait, his stance, even his aura.

At first, he was rather unprepared at how differently he was treated by the public. When he was inspector, the crowds would literally part in front of him like the Red Sea. Now it was impossible to avoid jamming his shoulder as he ran into the passersby. He was just another civilian wandering the streets of Paris. He was no longer special. He was just ordinary.

He walked aimlessly all morning, just attempting to put the most distance between that tavern and himself—Madame Loriel and the new Jori Cortelle. Just after noon, he wandered into the _Jardin du Luxembourg_ to break into the provisions that Madame Loriel had supplied for him. The gardens were bustling due to the agreeable weather and temperature. It took him quite a while to actually find an unoccupied bench that he could enjoy his meager rations on.

He balanced the satchel on his lap and fumbled with untying the knot that held the whole parcel closed. He spread out the cloth and surveyed the contents. There was a secondary pair of clothes lining the inside of the kerchief, and rolled up inside of those was a loaf of bread, block of cheese, and an apple. It almost went unnoticed, but luckily the faded, worn crimson pattern of a small purse caught his eye, as well. He sighed to himself upon seeing this bit of kindness, but at the same time cursed Madame Loriel in his mind.

He broke off a small piece of bread and a bit of cheese that would fit snuggly into it and provide just enough flavor for the bare meal. While slowly consuming this hunk of bread, he sat quite peacefully watching the members of society stroll by.

Despite his reformation over the past months, there was still prejudice clouding the better part of his mind. It was easy to fall back into his old judgmental way of thinking when he was alone like this. The people walking by were well-dressed and of proper decorum. Still, a scowl marred his features, for all he could see was the embodiment of sin; yet he so desperately yearned to recognize the human beings for the people they truly were.

He was of the mind and the intent to fully commit to his new life. However, it did not quite come as naturally as he had hoped and was certainly difficult in the solitary situation he had placed himself in. He felt a similar separation sitting in the gardens. The quick glances his way and hurried steps past his bench were quite evidently the lovely society people's way of subtly showing their disapproval. He knew his much more humble outfit did not contest in any way with the dresses and suits he saw. It was interesting to experience life on the other side. He could not have foreseen the feelings that arose with those speculative glances. It wasn't just his wits and intelligence he had kept from his former life, but also his stubbornness and persistence. So, he would never allow anyone to see his reactions. The turmoil in his head was successfully masked by his stoic expression.

Javert was still people watching as he had been since first taking up occupancy on the bench. It was close to a half an hour after initially resting on the sculpted seat that he caught sight of a curious creature not so far in the distance. He sat up a little straighter, gripped the remaining butt of bread a little tighter, and turned all of his attention toward staring after this curiosity.

The women in the gardens were all sporting vibrant colors and patterns conducive to the season. Yet, there was one dark flower amongst all of the others. It was a young woman that Javert watched so intently. She stood out from the rest in a frock of the blackest material and the most conservative of styles. A dark bonnet concealed much of her head, but it wasn't able to disguise the coppery shine of the bundled up hair beneath it, or prevent the sun from bouncing off of it in beautiful gold. Her delicate pale facial features appeared porcelain with the distance and nothing less than lovely. Her form, her posture revealed wonders of her strict and proper upbringing, as well as her discipline. However, it was when she turned her large, doe-like sapphire eyes in his direction, as if she had heard his heart calling to her, that his breath actually caught in his throat.

She appeared alone in the lane across the lawn, but lingered as if waiting for a companion to arrive. Her hands were folded ever so gracefully in front of her, whilst her fingers seemed to impatiently pull at one another. It impressed upon him a mechanical twitching because she stared as if wholly absorbed in thought, her eyes never resting on one thing for too long and certainly never seeing. It was impressive, Javert thought, at how, even at such a distance, he was capable of reading her. That used to be his line of work, after all.

Through the roaming pedestrians a young man made himself known. He strode forward, seemingly at a brisk pace, eagerly toward the young woman. It was a matter of seconds before the young woman noticed his presence, but she instantly looked relieved. He took up her little hands in his in a protective and loving manner.

It was impossible for Javert to hear the exchange that began to take place, yet he found himself on the edge of his seat and leaning forward in a poor attempt to try to overhear. He could not say that he was disgusted by this female, as he was to some degree by all in the same gender. In a strange new way, unfelt by him in all of his years, he found a curious attraction to this stranger. He was quite pleased by the mannerisms which he saw—the propriety and distinguished way in which she held herself. He found her person quite agreeable without ever having met her. She appeared to epitomize the ideal woman in Javert's mind. As he thought along the lines of society, or at least used to, it could therefore be said that he believed her to be the truest form of the modern day society. In fact, it was in this idea that the allure was drawn.

He had barely looked twice at the young man, since the presence of the young woman completely overshadowed him, in Javert's mind. But now, with curiosity drawing his eyes toward this young woman's interest, he had to admit that this second character appeared quite familiar. It was impossible to point the exact trace, unfortunately, but nonetheless it caused Javert to furrow his brow and dig through his mind in search of the answer.

The couple had only been reunited for a matter of minutes (less than ten for sure!) when they interlocked their arms and stepped lightly down the path. Javert was quite unprepared for this action, though considering, it is difficult to say how the possibility had not struck him. He swiftly began to gather the cloth parcel and all of its innards back together, while finishing the butt of the piece of bread that was his lunch in two large bites. He secured the knot then stood to scurry after the pair. He could not say what spurred him on, but it was strong enough to leave no trace of doubt as to what he was doing.

He followed several paces behind, matching their leisurely gait, and pretending to find interest in the surrounding shrubbery. All the while, he kept an ear on their conversation. He did not want to reveal himself, so he ensured his distance, so long as he could still hear, and to stop when they stopped or even perhaps a little after and to appear entirely consumed in his surroundings.

"-so many memories," the girl was saying softly. "It never gets any easier, no matter how many times we come here."

"I know," the young man replied. He scoffed slightly and shook his head. "You probably don't remember the first time I saw you in these very gardens, do you?"

She blushed. Javert caught sight of the stain of red upon her porcelain cheek when she turned her head toward her companion. "Actually, it is hard to forget. You must have passed by our bench at least ten times that day."

He laughed. It was a very charming sound, which did not surprise Javert at all. All young men these days seemed to have elegant laughs and even more impressive hair. "I know of the time in which you are referring. It does not seem as distant as perhaps it should. But no, my love, I was actually implying an earlier time that you may not even be aware of."

"Oh?" she questioned, appearing quite perplexed.

"It was a year before, and may I impart something to you?" he asked politely.

"Of course."

He smiled charmingly. "I could hardly believe how much you had changed that second year. You looked like an entirely new person—no longer that schoolgirl, but a full-fledged woman."

The young woman blushed again and bowed her head. Javert's stomach gave a flutter, as it was modest and charming, indeed. She gave a small giggle, placing her fingers in front of her cherry lips, as if attempting to stifle it.

"What is it?" the young man inquired, though completely taken in by her joviality.

"_Pardon_," she breathed. "I couldn't help reminiscing about that very first letter you had left me beneath a stone. Really, I was quite surprised."

The couple stopped walking and turned to face one another. Javert had to halt abruptly and pretend to be engaged in viewing a nearby tree. He watched them from behind the trunk as they stared deeply into each other's eyes. There was nothing else in the world for them but each other.

"But when I read it," the young woman was continuing on, "I knew it had to be you—it could not be anybody but you. I had seen it in your eyes that day, and I see it in your eyes still now."

The young man caressed her cheek with the back of his hand and smiled very lovingly down at the girl. "And you shall see it in all of the years to come, Cosette." He leaned down and gave her a gentle peck on the lips.

Javert recoiled behind the trunk of the tree, as if he had just witnessed a purely private and intimate moment, which he supposed he had. His heart raced in his chest, going wild. He didn't know why he felt a sudden surge of annoyance, but his lip curled and he scowled in detest. Still, without having to look at the couple, he listened in on their continued conversation.

"Thank you, Marius," the woman whispered. "Thank you for being so understanding during this difficult time."

"Marius?" Javert whispered to himself. He had heard that name before, but he could not identify from where. It just seemed so familiar. Not to mention, it roused feelings of hatred in him. He took a breath or two to try and suppress these. He did not want to jump to conclusions. He peeked back around the tree, spying them in the same exact spot still. The woman, who must have been Cosette, was clutched to this Marius' chest.

"He meant so much to both of us," Marius cooed. "Without him, I would not even be alive today."

"Monsieur Jean was as much a father to me as he was a savior to you," Cosette announced, somewhat muffled by the man's tunic and her own depression.

Javert caught his breath. He nearly choked he held it for so long, but he could not avoid the shock and surprise of that statement. He knew precisely who they referred to now. It was the convict he had so long pursued, who he had dedicated his life in catching. It was Jean Valjean. After all, who else could it be? There was but one man by that name in all of Javert's life.

Now he knew where the young man was from, as well. He had been one of the students that had put his life on the line for change. Yet, he had managed to escape, it seemed. And, it sounded that he owed his life to Jean Valjean.

"Another life spared, eh, Jean Valjean?" he muttered to himself, still in disbelief.

"He did not have to tell you of your mother before he passed, sweetheart," Marius purred. "He could have left you with his name intact, believing him to be your true father."

Cosette shook her head. "No, you are wrong. He had no choice in the matter. He never would have rested peacefully without disclosing the truth about my origins. He was just that kind of man."

Javert's mind worked quickly. It was good to see that he still retained some usefulness from his previous life. He understood that the young woman before his eyes had been raised by none other than Jean Valjean, but that was just it. He recalled an infirmary and a dying woman, a whore then, desperately clinging to the idea of an absent child.

It was quite surprising enough to learn that the man he had pursued all of those years was now actually deceased, after all of the running and effort was over. His old self would have been sufficiently satisfied with this outcome—the thief had finally succumbed, while the law prevailed. But, his new self seemed rather disappointed over the fact.

Along with this surprise was also the disbelief of this young, proper woman's origins. Perhaps it was because it belonged to the moment, and the moment of interest certainly belonged to the young woman by the name of Cosette, that it overshadowed the ending of Jean Valjean. He felt somewhat betrayed because Cosette of the present did not look like some beggar's child. She looked a decent member of society. He felt led on and that he had just now been mercilessly dashed upon the rocks.

Javert was still attempting to comprehend how she had become so successful when realization dawned upon him. He saw the similarities between his origins and evolution and that of the girl's. They had both started in squalor and fought to survive in the world. This presented a very new and interesting attraction to him, for he had never before seen so much of himself in another human being. He had always thought that he had been alone in this large world, but now it seemed as if he had finally encountered another reformed soul much like himself.

Full of intrigue and interest, Javert continued to follow the young couple. They picked up their stroll once again, all the while never aware of the presence lurking in their shadows.

* * *

_Jardin du Luxembourg_: Luxembourg Garden

_Pardon_: Pardon; excuse me


	4. Point of No Return

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note: **So, I hope nobody is too disturbed or scandalized yet. You may be having thoughts as to what is going to occur, but you may be wrong. For those of you who have read the book, remember how much in love Cosette and Marius were at the very end. Can that be so easily broken? I hope I am not giving anything away. Just keep an open mind. I know that this story is not everyone's cup of tea, and that is what I like about it.

**Chapter 4**

- Point of No Return

He followed them back to a quaint, yet well-established abode. It was but a few miles from the gardens, and he already assumed that they enjoyed the air during the walk and that they preferred this mode of transportation when traversing back and forth. They remained quite leisurely in their pace, whispering back and forth to one another along the way. Javert found it more and more difficult to hear what exactly was being shared as they found their way further and further into the throngs of pedestrians within a more central locale.

He found it easier to go unnoticed as he trailed them—blending in quite nicely with the rest of the citizens. He no longer stood out amongst them, but found himself, to some more subdued level of disgust, as one of them. He ignored those passersby, staring directly at Cosette's back as it weaved delicately in and out of the crowds. He felt wholly consumed, as though a force pushed him forward to an eventual meeting. Yet, there was no idea in his mind as to how he would even begin to approach her or how to strike up a proper conversation. He could not even fathom talking with the young woman. He feared he would make such a fool of himself and perhaps chase her away forever.

He did not want to give away who he really was. He was only Jori Cortelle and nobody else. Even so, there was so much he yearned to ask her and learn from her. He was quite good at putting on a false persona, yet he did not like so much the idea of lying to her. He recalled when he had fooled the students banding against his troops. But, that also reminded him of the generosity of a petty thief and a world turned on its head, and he had to stop thinking of that time.

Perhaps he was panicking to some degree and that his answer lie with that man that had altered both of their lives in such a major way, to a point of no return.

The house they pulled into was surrounded by a cast iron gate and a charming garden. There was a stone bench positioned beneath the single willow tree that stood amongst the shrubbery and flowers to the side of the front door. The mere façade of the building indicated the comfortable cost of the abode, let alone how he imagined the inside was furnished. He loitered out of sight, but watched intently as they were administered into the house by who he could only assume was their housemaid. The length and growth of some of the vines and plants allowed one to remain hidden against a moderate length of fencing, much to his relief and detestation. He hated to think of any other man with crueler intentions in mind standing right where he was.

Oddly enough, Javert did not move a single inch as the day passed into twilight. He kept his gaze fixated on the ordinary house, though it never stirred, either. There was a bay window on the main level that once had its curtains open, but he watched the maid draw closed as the light outside began to dim. He watched windows flicker to life one by one with induced lighting. As he stared at the shadows flittering beyond the glow, his mind began to play unhealthy tricks on him.

"Are you there, Valjean?" he whispered to himself at one point, though the more lucid part of his mind knew that, from the information given, the man was dead. However, his eyes seemed to become filled with his obsession of long ago. "Are you awaiting my miraculous return? Are you expecting me to come crawling back to you, as if you were my newfound savior?"

He cracked a rather disturbing, crazed grin. His teeth shone bright and jagged in the darkness that surrounded him. He believed, somehow, that he could see the ex-convict sitting in wait in one of the windows. He clutched the black bars of the fence tighter, more violently.

"You do not realize, but I know you are there," he continued, quite madly. "Little do you know, however, that I shall wait until you fall asleep and sneak upon you like a panther in the dark."

It was quite something that Javert was talking to himself about a deceased figure of his past. It would have been quite the spectacle to all of those who had once known him as the inspector. Was he losing his mind? He very well may have been. Perhaps it was survivor's guilt. He knew he was never supposed to have lived past his archenemy. He certainly realized that now. In the grand scheme of things, where everything is not as it should be, he had suffered in ways that he would have only expected those who have broken the law to. One had to admit that it definitely toyed with the mind in fairly dark and twisted ways. It would have driven weaker men into insanity long ago, but Javert was strong. He evolved and prevailed rather than shrinking into submission, as so many do. He would prove that he could overcome, just as he once had.

It was near midnight when he was finally motivated into action. He had managed to convince himself to penetrate the residence so he could discover whether or not Jean Valjean was waiting inside. He needed to appease himself in this manner. Later, he would not be able to tell you what had spurred this on—if it was really some insane part of his character that drove him to it. He would not be capable of confirming or denying what he had hoped to find once he had forcefully entered the residence, or what he had imagined the family living inside would do upon finding him. Or, worst. How he would react in either circumstance to the residents of the house.

Javert paced the perimeter, surveying the area for the easiest way in through the locked gate. There didn't seem to be an easy answer for this, as it stretched at least one and a half men tall all around and there were no breaks in the iron. He tried to remain to the shadows and paused at every noise he heard. He had operated once within the law, but now he felt as though he had fallen into the complete opposite. Anybody who saw him would have agreed.

Finally, he discovered what he believed to be his best option. At one point, there were a few bush-like shrubs with their branches rather mangled together and poking out toward the fence. He found that he was just able to stretch his foot inside of the gate and use the thick intermingling branches as sort of leverage to boost him toward the top. With his knapsack tucked inside of his shirt so that it would not fall loose, he managed to grab between the many sharp turrets and hoist himself up.

He had started to swing his legs over, hovering over these sharp peaks by maintaining his weight on his hands, when he felt himself teeter. The muscles in his arms were also shaking from such strain and he could already sense the inevitable. When his elbow gave out, he was not the least bit surprised. His body shifted toward the ground.

Suddenly he saw water beneath him. His heart raced against his chest in an all too familiar manner. The fear still crossed his face, though he had already foreseen the plunge. He sucked in a deep breath, much against his will, as he braced himself for the billions of sharp needles of the cold Seine.

Much like before, all that met him at the end of the fall was just darkness and nothingness.


	5. Come Face-to-Face

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note:** I want to thank the reviews so far. They are actually already more than I anticipated. I just want to say to hang in there. I am not too sure where this is headed, but I know it will be interesting. If anyone has any ideas for the story, please feel free to voice them. I tend to let the story lead me instead of the other way around. On another note, I just want to apologize in advance if anyone has an issue with how I wrote Cosette and Marius. Honestly, I am not trying to make Marius a controlling a-hole, but it just seems that way. And I am not trying to make Cosette floozy without a brain. I see Cosette as being rather innocent, but mostly just learning from Valjean and being this sincerely kind person. Marius is very, very, very in love with Cosette, so it is only natural that after all they had been through that he is a bit skeptical and a bit overprotective. I just hope this makes some sense and these characters aren't too unappealing to you. :/

**Chapter 5**

- Come Face-to-Face

"Shh, keep your voice down. We don't want to disturb him."

Sounds came muffled to Javert at first, as if he were hearing for the very first time. Slowly, however, they grew clearer and he understood what was being said around him.

"Let him rest a while longer."

"Yes, I understand, my dearest, but what are we going to do with him?"

"Whatever do you mean? It is not like he is some stray dog."

A stray dog. He had never imagined himself to be just another stray, but perhaps that was precisely what he had turned into. In all honesty, he had no home to go back to. His old life was dead. He was still in the process of defining his new destiny and himself. So, until he actually figured that out, perhaps all he was was another stray dog. Yet, this angelic voice seemed to dismiss this notion.

"That was not my intention, Cosette. All I mean to say is that he was found unconscious in our garden. After all, is it not concerning how he got there in the first place?"

There was hesitation from her. He could sense it without even bothering to open his eyes. "Well, yes, I suppose. But we can't just rouse him and toss him out on the street. What if he has nowhere to go? I remember a time when you could have been in this man's very place."

"Yes, and nothing has changed since then."

"Except for our income."

There was clopping across the floorboards as the couple drew closer to one another, Javert was sure. His head still spun a little, which deterred him from opening his eyes. He also did not wish to reveal that he was actually awake to the conversers just yet.

"Like I said," the deep male voice continued, but softer, "nothing has changed."

There was a muffled giggle, which made Javert's stomach knot in a nauseous sort of way. He wished he could have been anywhere but there at that moment. It eluded him how he had even gotten into that position and why. Yet, for the time being, that did not really matter. He was just focused on the present and how to proceed.

"So," the man orated again, "we shall wait until he awakens and then go from there. Does that sound better, my pet?"

There was not a single sound of approval, but the woman went on. "I shall have Nanette fetch a basin of water so that he may clean up. He still has dirt everywhere."

Again there was a crossing of footsteps, a door opening and closing, and then he assumed that it was just him and perhaps the young man in the room. He figured it was as good a time as any to reveal his consciousness. He started to slowly flicker open his eyes, but it took a few times to actually succeed in the task, as the sun was now shining through the windows. It made him ponder exactly how long he had been out for.

As he adjusted his position, his muscled strained and ached. He groaned roughly, which had surely drawn attention itself. But it was all of these stressful activities in the actual process of waking that led him to mutter aloud mainly to himself.

"Not again," he grumbled, barely audible for anybody else to hear.

"You're awake!"

The young man, slightly taken aback by how swiftly the stranger had awoken after his partner had exited the room, rushed to his side in hopes of aiding. He took a hold of one of Javert's arms to hoist him into a slouched position with pillows supporting his back. This was the first time Javert clearly got a look at the room, as well as the young man.

The room was of moderate size—probably considered large given the times and the poverty. It was certainly the size of some apartments he had seen before. The bed was quite roomy and comfortable. Between the two windows on one of the walls was a washstand with a mirror and towel. Off in one of the darker corners of the room was an individual table with a single chair pulled up to it and a candlestick holder minus the candle in the middle of it. His satchel sat on the edge. There was a little trunk at the foot of the bed with a quilt thrown over top.

The young man was easily recognizable. Javert knew it was the one he had watched in the gardens. Seeing Marius' face also allowed him to remember the foolishness that had landed him infirmed in the bed. He felt embarrassment boiling over him, but he had to remind himself that these people were unaware of what drove him to scale their fence. That allowed him to calm a little.

The young man was dressed fairly nicely, though comfortably and conservatively. It was obvious that the extra income did not go to his head, as it did to so many. Instead of the patchy clothing that Javert remembered him once upon a time wearing, though, he had nicely tailored and slightly used garments. Not only was he self-conscious about his reasoning for being present, but now became self-conscious about the clothes on his back.

"Careful now," Marius had instructed soothingly whilst helping him. It wasn't until he stepped back, however, that he adopted his true voice in volume and tone. "I must say, you had us all quite worried."

Javert looked upon him without knowing a single thing to say. However, his expression must have read one of confusion because it didn't take long for the young man to continue on.

"Nanette, our housemaid, discovered you early this morning face down in our garden. Needless to say we were quite alarmed. No harm done, though, I hope."

Javert recognized that he was waiting for some sort of answer as to whether or not he had been physically injured in the fall. "No, everything seems to be in order."

There was a pause from Marius. Javert knew he was weighing the man in front of him. Though he appeared to be of humble origins and rough, if any, schooling, he spoke with position and had all the displays of well-mannerisms. This caused him to swallow with doubt, for he did not wish to give anything away, especially while he was in their territory.

"I-I do apologize about trespassing," he added quickly, remembering some lessons taught by Madame Loriel. "I can be away from here in no time at all."

"There's no need for that," Marius replied quickly, remembering himself. "Please, rest for now. My wife went to fetch some water to clean your face with. She will be back momentarily."

For one reason or another, Javert was not surprised at all by this news—Cosette was in fact Marius' wife. Yet, it disturbed him all the same. A frown marred his face against his better judgment. He quickly looked away to avoid Marius seeing it.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he muttered, not sounding too impolite or disrespectful. He was actually rather pleasantly surprised at how they had accepted him into their home. He was sure if they knew precisely who he was, they would not be so welcoming. "I never intended to inconvenience you like this."

Marius smirked slightly, which put off Javert. "Then what did you intend?" he asked in all politeness, though rather unnervingly.

Javert was at a loss for words once again. He hadn't expected such audacity from this young man. It was so straight forward that it actually offended him, even though he was the one technically trespassing on the other's land. Luckily he wasn't put on the spot for long. The door opened some seconds later and produced the young woman from the gardens and an older woman in serving garb.

It took only a moment for him to notice that the young woman was no longer clad in the depressing black he had noticed her in the day before. She had turned to a frock of royal blue with a white lace collar ruffled down the front. Though much less mournful, it was still dark and considerate.

She took notice of him right away, as well, seemingly before anything else. An elated and relieved expression jumped to her face and she made a beeline toward the bed. The aged housemaid gave a quick parting glance toward him then continued on the route to the basin to fill it with the hot water she had carried in. The young man stepped forward to meet his wife in almost a protective manner, as if the stranger in the guest room was wielding a dangerous weapon.

"You've awaken," she breathed just as her husband caught her by the arms to prevent her from venturing further. It was clear he was very protective over her, which he couldn't be blamed for.

The young woman was even prettier up close. Javer was quite struck with her beauty. In fact, that he could not take his eyes off of her and his words left him fairly suddenly. The only thing keeping him from completely succumbing to her was the memory of the sinful and demonic view of women from his previous life. There was better judgment in him reminding him that they could not be trusted. Still, he allowed himself to stare and the warmth of this lady to wash over him.

Cosette, naïve as she seemed, took the action of her husband as an embrace at her return to the room—something quite natural in the household, perhaps. She quickly glanced his way with a brightness in her eyes then turned her head back to the stranger in the bed. She sort of fell into Marius' hold and gripped his arms naturally and tenderly the way a wife would to a husband.

"I do so hope you did not acquire any injuries from your escapades last night," she said somewhat amused and fairly light-hearted.

Javert could not be offended by the statement no matter how hard he tried. "I find myself quite well, thank you, madame," he replied humbly and politely.

She shot a fleeting look at Marius then broke free of his embrace, though not without a lingering touch. She stepped around to the side of the bed, her hands folded and fingers entangled in front of her.

"I'm relieved to hear so," she replied pleasantly. "We were unsure whether we should summon a doctor or not, but as long as you are quite positive that you are well…" She trailed off, leaving it open for him to respond.

"That won't be necessary," he assured her.

She grinned, her smile quite lovely and inviting. "Then you must at least stay and have something to eat. That is the least you can allow us." She only passed a look requesting approval to Marius after she had already offered.

Javert was rather taken aback by the genuine hospitality and complete unselfishness that this girl possessed. He recalled ever having felt such an impact only one other time, and that had been in the presence of Jean Valjean at the granting of his life.

'You taught her well, Valjean,' he thought to himself, somewhat bitterly.

Cosette did not wait for any sort of answer. In fact, he believed that she hadn't expected one or even had posed the sentence in such a way that offered any. She continued on with hardly a pause, her large eyes suddenly going wide, and she stared at Javert as if she had just remembered something she oughtn't have forgotten. "My word, I do apologize, but I don't believe we learned your name yet, monsieur."

"Jori," Javert replied almost immediately. "Jori Cortelle, madame."

"And mine is Cosette Pontmercy, and this is my husband Marius Pontmercy." She motioned briefly toward the young man, who remained standing ever so stiffly nearby.

By this point, Nanette had filled the basin full and stocked the towels on the attached rack in front. She lingered by the door, staring skeptically at this Jori Cortelle, with the empty pitcher in her hands.

"Please take your time washing up, Monsieur Cortelle, and call if you need anything at all."

Javert simply nodded, rather impatient to finally be left alone with his thoughts and musings on the situation. He severely needed to recollect himself and decide what to do from here. There was much for him to consider. Besides, he figured there would be much gossip upon the residents once they were clear of him, as well.

They exited the next moment, shutting the door softly behind them. He waited a few more minutes to ensure that they had in fact left him before drawing back the covers and getting out of bed. His body ached slightly from the rough fall, but he soon stretched out most of the tight muscles. He padded over to the wash basin and took a peek at his reflection in the mirror.

He cringed at the sight that met him. His face was covered in soil and dirt. His hair was matted with stray leaves and twigs. There were a few cuts across his forehead and scrapes along his cheeks. He looked more a ruffian than ever—a convict, he compared in his mind.

He dipped one of the new cloths into the warm water and rubbed it hard against his face. He could feel the water penetrating the dried mud and breaking it up. It began to fall away, much like a mask. He dipped the cloth again and repeated the action, scrubbing hard. He could even feel his hands being rubbed clean. He released his unruly locks next and splashed some water over them in order to make them more presentable. He did this until he was able to call them clean.

It took him near to an hour, if not more, to become presentable in his opinion. He had changed over to the extra set of clothes Madame Loriel had packed for him. He had shoved the change purse into a pocket of the pair of slacks to keep it safe from prying eyes and hands. He rolled the last bit of food he had brought with him back up into the satchel and put it aside for the time being.

Afterward, he sat on the mattress and gazed out of the far window at the world beyond. Though it was quite similar in setting to his previous temporary abode, he couldn't help feeling that he was worlds apart from where he had first started out from. He was filled with so many emotions that he had never before experienced. He was consumed by something he believed he ought to detest. He was quite curious as to where his life was now going to lead him, but at the same time he doubted that he should even be receiving this second chance. Most of all, he was frightened about what the future held. Or at least that was what he liked to believe was the cause behind it. In actuality, it was the possibility of these fine people discovering his true identity that scared him the most—scared him down to his very core.

Yet, he could not help thinking that perhaps his second life was a new chance at something. And, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, that something was what had brought him right here and now.


	6. Pursue the Truth

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note:** So this chapter is going to see a slight change in Marius. Hopefully you lovely people do not think it is too far gone from the actual character. Again, though, just keep in mind his love for Cosette, which is held above all else. Also just try to remember how he had lost all of his friends and the impact that would have on his life and his character.

**Chapter 6**

- Pursue the Truth

It was a hot bowl of leek and dumpling soup that met Javert at the table down the stairs, with a side of some bread and butter and cheese and a goblet of wine. He remained aware of Cosette and Marius watching him from across the table with each bite he took. So, he made sure to mind his manners and take small, polite bites of the food laid out for him. It was not too difficult, as he was not at all hungry, but chose to partake of the meal due to proper hospitality and etiquette. He glanced up from his dish every now and then to check with his host and hostess. But, each time he did, he saw that they were indeed staring directly at him.

"Do you have anywhere to stay, Monsieur Cortelle?" Cosette inquired after going through the formalities of asking how his meal suited him, which it did just fine.

"As of the moment, Madame Pontmercy," he began, but found himself cut off in the middle.

"Please, it is simply Cosette," she corrected with a smile.

"Cosette," he restated then continued on. "As of the moment, I do not have any specific residence."

"And how long have you found yourself in this way?" Marius chose to chime in.

"Not long now." Javert had been truthful in his meaning of hours, though he was sure that the couple had taken it as days or perhaps even in the time span of months.

"Is there no family for you in the area?"

"None to speak of." He took a long sip of the soup, knowing that by remaining vague in that manner would allow them to come to their own conclusions.

"Then whatever brings you around?" Marius was quite brutal in his questioning, but rightfully so. With a stranger in their home, he was allowed to be protective and curious and aggressive.

Javert set his spoon down carefully, using that moment to ponder how it was he wanted to answer that. He had not really taken the time to invent a back story for his new character and did not want to corner himself on some made up detail. He also did not want to raise any additional questions that he would not have answers for or that could even stray too close to the truth.

"I suppose you could say," he began carefully, "that it was God's will that I should find myself here."

"Well played," Marius murmured, smirking.

"Since you find yourself without lodgings, Monsieur Cortelle," Cosette started softly after a brief pause. She found herself cut off, though, in much the same way as she had done to Javert.

"Please, Madame, if I am to refer to you by your Christian name then you must also refer to me by mine. Jori will be sufficient."

"Well, Jori." She hesitated, casting a long glance at her husband. "Would you like to stay here for some time until you find yourself a more permanent residence?"

Javert nearly choked on his soup, but recovered quite gracefully and naturally. He had come to realize that they were kind people, but nobody opened their home to some random stranger. He knew he was pessimistic and bleak, but on this matter he knew he was right. It was so seemingly good-natured and selfless that he grew suspicious of their motives. Perhaps they had figured out who he really was and just playing a game with him. Perhaps they were seeing how far he would go with his assumed identity until they could trap him and take their revenge. He disliked both ideas and scowled at the thought.

It was evident on his face and, since it was impossible to know what was occurring in his mind, the couple took the frown as a reply to their offer. Cosette sank back in her chair a little, appearing somewhat defeated and dismayed.

"Please do not feel that you have to accept," she attempted to appease. "It was merely a thought."

"No," he stated rather bluntly, even causing more alarm than the apparent physical reaction. He shook his head, as if to take back the outburst. "What I mean to say is," he paused, "that would be lovely and very unnecessary."

Cosette grinned. "Then it is settled."

Marius, smiling politely, turned to their guest. "Would you like to accompany me into town, Monsieur Cortelle?" he invited.

Javert stared at him, rather unsettled. He was more suspicious of the young man's offer than of the chance to stay with the couple. Not only had the invitation been posed with strain and suspicion, but the look that Marius held made him very wary to accompany the man. However, at the same time, it seemed as though he was unable to not accept. It was as if something dared him to try.

Javert could be described as many things, but stupid certainly was not one of them. He decided he would accompany Marius as requested, but he would do it on his own terms. He knew that there was something suspicious in this invitation and he would make sure that he remained very aware during the entire outing. He was always the catcher, not the one to be caught. This would not be the start of the reverse.

* * *

Marius had adorned a fabulous velvet waistcoat for the outing, which put Javert's simple shirt and vest combination to shame. He couldn't help suspecting that perhaps the young man had adorned such finery in order to present some embarrassment to the older man. They talked of the weather and other such pleasantries as they made their way. All the while, though, Javert remained aware of his own styling amongst the more fashionable Parisians.

He remained alert for whatever Marius had in store for him, but it seemed as though the moment would never come. He thought that it could present itself when they had 'accidentally' turned down a deserted alleyway and found themselves face-to-face with a high brick wall. But Marius had simply turned around and strutted out of the dead-end muttering light-heartedly about a common mistake. He was quite sure Marius was toying with him and testing him when he had led Javert to the edge of the Seine and talked of it mesmerizing waters for roughly five minutes. But they shortly departed from its edge to head in another direction.

Finally they came to a building—a popular and well off law firm by the looks of it. Javert couldn't imagine what they could possibly be doing there. Yes, Marius turned toward him as they reached the stately entrance, speaking quietly and quite normally.

"Would you mind waiting a moment just outside here, while I go in and inform them of my absence today?" he asked, searching Javert's eyes.

It was in that minute that Javert finally put both pieces together and realized that Marius had become a full-fledged lawyer and was employed in the services at this particular firm. He glanced from the young man to the extravagant building and back again, pondering just how this had been accomplished. He remembered when Marius had been merely another student living in poverty and rags. However, it appeared he had managed to overcome that and make quite a name for himself.

"Certainly," Javert replied with hardly a lull in the conversation.

He watched Marius disappear into the building then turned to find amusement elsewhere. He watched the passersby and some street urchins kicking around a can. He watched, more discretely, a couple of police officers lead their horses by and wearing skeptical and watchful eyes. He heard a commotion toward one side by a couple of alleyways and paced over toward it to see what it was about. It turned out that the police officers were merely breaking up the couple of boys who had been assaulting the can. Obviously, by the look of the boys, they were of a poorer class and that was always the rung on the social ladder that received the most attention from the officers.

Javert recalled his own prejudices. The one that stuck out the most in his mind was the arresting of a certain prostitute and the former convict who had come to her aid. He had witnessed the entire scene, sad to say, but had done nothing when the well-dressed gentleman had forced snow and ice down the woman's dress. It was only when she had attacked him that he had decided to step in. But, he had stepped in for all of the wrong reasons.

It was easy to see his folly now. It was easy to say that he had indeed been wrong. (Actually, this was quite a feat, as he was not accustomed to ever admitting such a thing.) However, at the time, even if there had been a twinge of doubt in his mind, it was the law that acted in favor of the gentle people. It had been their duty to see that they were protected from the filth of the streets. He had reminded himself again and again that it had been her fault. She was the one to blame because she was the prostitute. She was the wretched, disgusting slime living on the streets and praying on the weakness of innocent men. He had condemned her before ever knowing her.

Now, he mused, being the man he was now, would he go back and do it all over again? Would he do it right this time?

Javert started to pivot to head back to where he had agreed to wait when a sudden force propelled him backward into one of the isolated alleys and hard against the dirty brick wall, knocking the wind from his lungs. He coughed to regain some air, meanwhile recognizing a strong arm pinning him to the exterior wall without any space to maneuver in.

In the sudden impact, his eyes had closed much against their will, but now he was able to open them and take in what had just occurred. Fairly shocked and appalled, he found himself staring straight at Marius, who did not appear apologetic or appeasing in any way.

"What do you think you are doing?" was all Javert could breathe at the moment. He figured he wouldn't have to ask much to learn the cause behind the assault.

"That is precisely what I should be asking you," Marius shot through gritted teeth.

Javert attempted to wiggle free, but there was no budging, this man was much younger, as well as much stronger than he. The best he could hope to accomplish was to talk his way free.

"Unhand me! What is this all about?"

"You cannot play dumb. Not regarding this."

He slowly stopped struggling, believing it a better way to get through to the young man. "Regarding what exactly? I am sorry, monsieur, but I am at a loss as to why you have attacked me so."

"Attacked you?" This appeared to make him angrier. "Attacked you? This is nothing compared to the attack you made on my friends and me."

Javert's heart suddenly started racing and he knew he was losing control. "W-What do you mean?"

"You know precisely what I mean, Inspector Javert.

Still, feigning ignorance, he laughed. "This is absurd. Who is this you speak of?"

"You can no longer hide, Inspector. I thought I recognized you when we first brought you into the house, but the dirt and mud did well in disguising your features." Marius scoffed. "Imagine my surprise when I saw you cleaned up. I had been informed that you had committed suicide. But no, it could not have been a corpse sitting at our table. Our table! The man who had killed all of my friends invited to break bread and lodge beneath my own roof!" He gave a short, impossible laugh then lowered his gaze back onto Javert again. "Now that is absurd."

"Please," Javert stated fairly monotone. He wasn't good at pleading, but this could have been considered close enough. "I am not Inspector Javert."

His eyes searched Marius' and he believed he saw the glint of tears welling up inside of them. He saw the passion and the hurt and the anguish. He saw the love for friends that he would never be able to see again. Perhaps this touched Javert even in the slightest way. He had never had real friends, so he did not personally know the emotion. He had never lost a family because he believed he had never possessed one in the first place. He had never had to say goodbye to a loved one since he had never experienced such a feeling. Yet, what was it that pulled at him?

Marius did not appreciate him denying his true identity again. The truth was out. All Javert could do was own up to it now. There was no more reason to deny the fact. He sighed. "Not anymore, anyway," he finished.

"What are you doing here?" Marius interrogated. "Have you come to finish your work? I swear, though, if you lay one hand on Cosette-"

"I would never dream of touching her!" Javert interrupted, appalled and peevish. He was disturbed that the young man would even think he would ever do such a thing.

"Then why are you here?" Marius shouted.

"I don't know!"

It blurted out sudden and loud, before Javert even knew what he was saying. It was the truth, though. It had to be. He did not know what he was doing anymore. He did not know where life was taking him or why. He had been trying to stop guessing and assuming. But look where it had gotten him. He was in an even bigger bind now, it would seem.

"I don't know why I am here," he tried to explain. It came out rather pathetically. "I don't know why I am still alive."

Marius shoved him back against the bricks, frustrated. "Well, I don't know either."

He released Javert and paced a few steps up the alley and a few steps down. It showed how at war with himself he was. Part of him wanted to do the right thing and the other part didn't know how to allow it.

"I should kill you for what you did," Marius finally spat. "But the consequences would most certainly affect Cosette, as well, and I will be damned if I ever do anything to harm her."

There was a pause that seemed to last forever. It grew uncomfortable and awkward. Javert stood idly by while Marius clenched his hands into fists at his sides and stared hard at the former inspector. It was impossible to predict what Marius' decision would be concerning Javert. Whatever it was, Javert was not afraid. He knew he had done wrong in his past and that he must atone for it presently. He only felt a tinge of regret at possibly having to depart so soon from the young woman who had caught his gaze.

"So what now?" Javert finally asked lowly.

"Now?" Marius took a deep breath, his mind working wonders. Upon releasing the air, he straightened himself up and adjusted his suit accordingly. He turned on his heel toward his former enemy and stared him straight in the eye, stoic and cold. "Now we head back home."


	7. The Workings of the Heart

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the later update. I was not feeling so inspired, but I managed to whip something up. I believe I may be nearing the end of this fanfiction, but I am still unsure of how exactly to end it. There are a few ideas, but none seem good enough. If there are any suggestions, please feel free to share them.

**Chapter 7**

- The Workings of the Heart

Supper that evening could be described as strained at best. Marius could not keep his eyes off of Javert, suspicious and ever cautious, while Javert did his best to avoid Marius at all costs, actually ashamed. Cosette was none the wiser of what had taken place earlier that day near Marius' offices. At least the two men could agree on one thing: They were both unwilling to burden Cosette with that encounter and the information that had been revealed.

Javert was rightfully nervous because of the past it would dredge up on him and his involvement in her life, but he could not be certain as to Marius' motives for keeping silent. He assumed that it had something to do with maintaining her happiness and peace of mind, but, being Javert, he was ever suspicious.

"How are you enjoying the roasted duck, Jori?" Cosette inquired pleasantly. Apparently too much silence had befallen the room and it had become unbearable.

"It is quite delicious, thank you," he muttered, swiftly sliding another piece of the carcass off of his fork with his teeth.

Cosette glanced about the table still holding her happily aloof expression. "Marius, you never did tell me what it was you two accomplished in town today."

Though it was very much like she had just read both men's thoughts, Marius remained interested in his dinner and barely showed a reaction. He kept his eyes downcast and continued to properly cut his meat.

"Well, my dear," he replied calmly, "there was never really much to tell—nothing of importance or interest in the slightest, at least." He masticated a small piece of duck and swallowed it delicately. "I know how you do love a good intrigue as much as any sort of news in the political world. Unfortunately for you, we did not acquire any such information during our outing."

He glanced up briefly at her and winked, which caused her to silently giggle to herself. It was true that her interests had become quite well-rounded. Ever since first meeting Marius and then learning of her father's secret past, Cosette had shown an interest in the intricate and complicated area of politics. She was even now slowly maturing from her youthful girlhood interests of gossip and scandals into a much more complicated subject.

Cosette glanced down at her plate sweetly, finding another vegetable to spear. "If you haven't already figured it out, Jori, my Marius is quite a skilled lawyer." Her eyes flickered upward and devotedly toward her husband, while she took the vegetable between her teeth.

"We did stop by the office today, but I am sure it is much too boring a topic to really get into," Marius avoided. He did not have qualms about discussing brief facts regarding some of his cases with his wife, since she often gave him some successful ideas regarding them, but he was certainly opposed to doing anything of the sort with a stranger. Well, not a stranger anymore. An enemy.

Javert looked at Marius daringly. "Actually, I do enjoy tales with a successful end."

Marius stared back at his foe, and he seemed to read in the older man's eyes an unspoken addition to that sentence. "Especially from where I last saw you," it seemed to say to him.

Resolute in his decision not to go into any detail, Marius responded shortly, "I help bring justice to those who otherwise would not have a chance. What else is there to say?" He took another small bite of food, allowing a pause to accumulate. "Though it is not a lot, it certainly is more than what some can claim."

"This city has seen enough of its children murdered," Cosette whispered in addition. "Any little bit helps."

Javert felt more foolish than he had since arriving there. He looked down at his plate, avoiding all eye contact and conversation. A sense of him believed that both were baiting him and lecturing when in reality he was sure it could only be Marius. He reflected on his past and his actions of long ago. There was nothing he could recall that he could rightfully consider as equal to that of which his host and hostess referred. Truthfully, he had never had a solid moral standing that wavered each decision. It was just the law; it had always been the law.

Javert dabbed at his mouth to clean off any crumbs or residue from the meal. He was not concerned that he had not even finished the plate or that leaving food behind could be considered as rude. He stood and offered a pleasant smile to his hostess.

"If you would excuse me, Cosette," he said politely.

She stood along with him, surprised and curious. "Is everything alright, Jori?"

"Yes." He hesitated, finding the words. "Today's excursion made me quite tired, so I will just retire to the bedroom if neither of you mind."

He didn't move until he received both Cosette's and Marius' consent. Then he slowly made his way upstairs and to the guest room that he was issued for his stay. Safely inside of the bed chamber, with the door shut between him and the other residents of the house, he released a long sigh that had been growing inside of his chest for some time. He felt as though he could finally breathe at last.

Javert took the chair and pulled it close to the window and stared out into the vast darkness of the evening hours. "What were you thinking?" he asked himself aloud, incredulously. "You don't belong here."

He had thought that this was what he had wanted—to find Cosette and to understand what it was that drew him to her. However, he realized now that he just could not go on the way he was. He could not continue to live in this lie. He could not remain in the house with her. He certainly could not keep pretending to be this other man—this persona he invented to better fit in.

* * *

It was a few hours later when the knock fell on his door. It was quite unexpected and nearly caused Javert to physically start. He stood from the humble stool and straightened out his outfit most mechanically.

"Come in," he called, coaxing his mind from its reverie.

The door opened ever so slightly before a head poked its way into the room. It was Cosette's inquisitive and sensitive gaze he met. She appeared to be unchanged since dinner.

"May I?" she inquired, though he had already issued her permission.

"Of course," he replied quickly.

He began to reposition the chair for her use while she allowed herself in and shut the door behind her. When he had the chance to glance up, he noticed she was already standing nearby, awaiting his completion. He swung an arm across the seat, but she batted the offer away with one small hand.

"No, thank you. You are too kind."

Cosette held a single silver candle stick in front of her, but appeared to cradle it as though it were a very precious gift. She hesitated before continuing on, and Javert thought that perhaps her meekness had left her mute. He opened his mouth, about to break the silence, when she picked up the conversation again.

"I was just concerned over how supper proceeded this evening," she stated bluntly, lifting her chin defiantly, though humbly. "You seemed uncomfortable at the end, and I just wanted to apologize if there was anything that Marius or I had brought up to cause that."

Javert thought a moment. "No, not at all. It is just that you two make it quite difficult for anyone to feel accomplished in the few efforts one has put forth. You ought to be saints."

"Please," she breathed, scoffing slightly and shaking her head, "you give us too much credit. We have both been subject to experiences that made us want to change for the better—that really put the world into perspective."

He paced a few slow steps away. "Those truly are the most worthwhile experiences."

"You see," she continued, as if not hearing him, stepping toward the chair subconsciously, "there are circumstances surrounding us that left compassion in our goals and revenge upon our hearts." She sank onto the seat with a quiet, lady-like huff. Her head was bowed. "Recently I lost my father. Well, he was more a father to me than I had ever known. Though he would choose to see the illusion shattered, how else could I refer to him? My savior? My life?"

"Cosette," Javert breathed, but it wasn't loud enough by any means to grab her attention. In fact, he was sure he had not even meant to. He knew precisely who she referred to and it was her devotion and sincerity that she spoke with that touched him.

"I speak as though I have been injured the most, but it is not so." She raised her eyes, which sparkled in the candlelight. "Marius has known loss more times over than I have. He has to go on living knowing that all of his friends are dead. He still blames himself. He cannot justify his living and their dying. After all, they fought for the same cause. They stood side by side at the barricade. Yet, he is still here."

Silence engulfed the room for some minutes. She stood suddenly and loitered in front of the window, staring out at the heavy darkness. The flame cast a reflection off of the glass that Javert peered at instead of what lay outside of the window. She appeared pensive and with a strange faraway, almost sad look in her eyes.

"That is why you must forgive Marius," she stated bluntly. "Do not pay mind to the distant way he acts. It is only because he has known such pain and trial."

"Whatever do you mean?" Javert shook his head and attempted to play dumb.

Cosette turned her head to the side as if to peer over her shoulder, but her eyes remained downcast. "I am not so blind. I know that there is tension between you two, which is quite understandable given the circumstances. You must think me foolish to have even opened my home to a stranger."

"Not at all," he insisted immediately. "I think you a kind and rare person for doing so."

She scoffed again and turned back to the window, hesitating momentarily. In the reflection, she appeared to mentally debate for a short time then smile slyly when she had finally come to some sort of decision. She spun around again, looking at him with a fairly different expression. He did not know how to take it or what to think.

"Jori, I have decided that I should share a story with you," she stated seemingly randomly.

"A story?" Javert questioned curiously.

"Yes, but not tonight." She stepped lively to the door and paused before opening it. "Tomorrow should suffice, I think." She took a step or two outside of the room, but kept her head peeking through the gap. "Until then, Jori." She nodded and closed the door mysteriously after her.


	8. Once Upon A Time

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note: **So, I am attempting to wrap things up here in probably just a few more chapters. Like I said, I am not too sure where this is necessarily going, but I do feel the end is near. I like all of the suggestions I have been getting. The idea with Eponine is very intriguing, but unfortunately Javert is the only one in this story that did not die accordingly. Again, I am still up for ideas on how to properly end this. There are a few rummaging around through my brain, but I just need it to make sense and be satisfying.

**Chapter 8**

- Once Upon A Time

The next day felt like torture to Javert. Breakfast was again strained at best with Marius uttering very little during the meal and Cosette acting as though she had never made some mysterious promise. It was difficult for him to maneuver in such a situation, so he ended up cutting the meeting short. He remained in his room for much of the day, always anticipating when Cosette might call upon him. He wasn't short of amusement. His mind was going wild with imaginings of what it was she wanted to tell him.

It was just after noon when he felt as though he could no longer stand being idle. Painstakingly, for he was afraid that he would miss her should she decide to call upon him when he was gone, Javert got up from his leisurely position and left the house. He decided to take a stroll because the weather was nice and the temperature mild. He no longer felt too nervous about somebody recognizing him, since it hadn't happened yet. Well, he decided, except to those he was in familiar contact with. Or, he even mused, perhaps it was just a fluke that Marius had discovered his true identity.

It still rattled him to think that the young man had recognized him almost instantaneously and had merely been playing a rouse until he had found the right time to strike. Once upon a time, he had been quicker than to fall for such an act. He would have known not to let his guard down. Perhaps he had been correct in his previous life to think that it was impossible to intermingle.

Javert allowed his feet to lead him through the streets. He didn't even attempt to pay attention to his surroundings or potential destination. Truthfully, he didn't even care. That was why when he suddenly found himself upon the very same bridge he had jumped from not so long ago, he was quite shaken.

He was frozen in the middle of the bridge, afraid to move to one side or the other. But then the spot caught his eye. The very spot he had stood on was still intact. It hadn't moved or changed like he must have thought it would. It was still there, taunting him. He shuffled over to it, his hands actually trembling slightly, until he was able to grasp the railing. It took all of his courage to peer over the edge and into the churning water below.

Javert was not sure what drove him or influenced him or even what he hoped to accomplish, but he knew he just had to do this. It was like overcoming an obstacle or a fear. Yes, he supposed, he actually did fear something. Though he would never admit it aloud, he at least had to admit it to himself. His heart raced against his chest and his muscles would not cease from cramping. It was certainly real. And, he supposed that now it was a part of his past—a part of him.

As he watched the flowing water below, it was then that he came upon a realization. He could feel himself changing due to his understanding and connection with those dark waves. The water was different, just like him. It was also not the same as it had been on that bleak day. It was new; it had evolved. Therefore, he should do the same.

Yes, as he stared down into the dangerous, yet beautiful tumult, he knew he was correct. There had been a reason he had chosen the water. No, he insisted. No, the water had chosen him. And, it was going to shape him—now, as it had then.

* * *

It was dusk when the light knock came upon his door.

"Come in," Javert called from the seat in the corner. He had borrowed a book from the Pontmercy's extensive library and had indulged in that by candlelight until just at that moment when he had been interrupted.

Cosette stepped over the threshold, not venturing to make a sound. He looked up and saw her close the door, and was ashamed to say that he had momentarily forgotten their scheduled meeting. Engrossed in the book, he spent very little time contemplating what their conversation would hold and the upcoming event itself.

Javert quickly marked and shut the book and placed it aside. He stood to formally greet his hostess, which she smiled about and simply gave a dismissive wave of her hand before he could even do anything.

"Please, sit down, Jori," she allowed politely.

Though her voice was still just as sweet and pleasant, he noticed some sort of force behind it that made him obey unquestioningly. Almost unawares he resumed his chair. With her hands fidgeting with one another in front of her, Cosette stepped this way and that before landing just in front of him. She had looked quite contemplative, to a point where Javert did not want to disturb her, but then suddenly assumed a content and rather encouraged expression.

"I suppose you are ready to hear my story now, Jori," she offered, peering at him with a small smirk on her ruby lips.

"I must admit, Cosette, that it was nearly all I could think about today," he imparted quietly.

She scoffed to herself. "I do apologize about that. I did not mean to leave you in anticipation. It is just a story I believe you have heard before." She slowly turned around so that her back was to him. "It's just that sometimes I think we all need some reminding."

He stared at her in confusion, but she merely walked away and stopped in front of the window. Staring out at the setting sun, the colors in the sky radiated off of her in such an image. He hated to say it, but he was starting to get somewhat concerned, more so over her rather than himself. She seemed so sad and distant. He had never seen her in such a way. He internally wished that there was something he could do to relieve her of this apparent burden.

When Cosette began, she spoke in a lilting and far off manner. She never turned her eyes to him at first, but it was apparent that she recognized his presence. Her reflection was vaguely visible in the window pane, which was what Javert intended to watch. He tried to study the expression on her face while she relayed the tale. However, it was barely formed and he had to suffice with looking upon the back of her head.

"Once upon a time," she began, "a little girl was left in a place where she didn't belong to be raised by people who did not like her. She was made to do the worst of chores and venture into the scariest and darkest of places. The little girl really had no concept of hope. For, how could one imagine living free of burdens and pain when that was all one had ever known?" For the next part, she bowed her head, picturing the past. She smiled a little at what she could recall. "But then one night, a saint came into the little girl's life in the form of a strange and lonesome man. He pervaded the darkness like a beacon of light, chasing away all of the shadows and demons. He was the first one to show her any kindness; and, in a way, she fell in love with him."

Javert swallowed, unable to tear his eyes away from her. The image of her, though simple and unmoving, was captivating enough. The story was hitting his heart, blow after blow. Not only that, though, he grew more and more nervous the further the story continued. He already realized that it was not a typical tale. In fact, he was sure it had some sort of hidden meaning or message specifically for him. There was a reason she was telling it to him, he knew. However, he would have to wait it out until the end to discover what that purpose was.

Cosette lifted her chin and stared out of the window again. The sky was growing dimmer just beyond the glass, causing the shadows in the room to dance and stretch. Still, her eyes held the reflection of the last sliver of sunlight.

"The man ended up saving the little girl from her wretched existence. He spirited her away from that dark and dismal place and offered her a chance at a brighter future. He gave her things that she could never have dreamed of. He loved her as she had only wished one day to be loved. However, it was not an entirely perfect existence. There was still a shadow chasing them, searching for them around every corner. The man became overprotective of the little girl and suspicious. He was afraid that this shadow would split them apart." Cosette paused momentarily to release a long sigh. "Time passed, as it always does, and the little girl became a young woman. She believed she would never care for anyone as much as she cared for her savior, but one day she met a young man who caused her heart to flutter. He, in turn, felt the same way. However, their love was in danger, for the shadow had never actually left. Though there had been a false sense of security, it had always remained lurking in the background. Now, it looked to tear the couple apart for good. And it almost did."

Cosette glanced over her shoulder at Javert, but he could not avert his gaze. Instead, he stared dumbly, and now awkwardly, at the young woman. His mouth was slightly agape in awe and nervousness. He couldn't say if it was the way she was telling the story or the memories of the story itself that caused his pulse to beat in his ears, his heart to thump against his chest. After a few seconds, she turned her head away, but turned from the window. She paced a little, her fingers still itching in front of her and her eyes always downcast.

"The young woman could never understand what made her savior fear the shadow so much," Cosette continued just as softly. "Not even as a little girl did she understand how the two were intertwined. It wasn't until her savior was on his last breath did she learn of not only how he came to her and of his secret past, but of her origins as well." She stopped again momentarily. She had to swallow to maintain her composure, but she sniffled with the onset of silent tears. "The young woman learned of the mother she had never met. The woman she had despised all of those years for abandoning her into darkness had actually struggled for her and her alone. She had given her life in an attempt to save her daughter." She took a deep breath. "The man she had made her savior had actually acted on behalf of that mother. He had sworn to protect the girl and raise her as his own. He had come from nothing, as well. It was quite a perfect match—a convict raising an orphaned girl." She had to bite back a sob. "But to the girl, that was her world."

Cosette sniffled again then broke into a sob. She dabbed at her eyes with her fingers, mopping up the tears that clung to her thick eyelashes. Javert wanted nothing more than to go to her, but he was afraid. Oh, God, he was afraid. He knew the story all too well. He was one of the characters. The only part that he was unsure about was if Cosette knew that, too.

"T-That story," he stammered finally just above a whisper, but he was cut short. It had taken much of his strength to just utter those two words.

"It's not over yet," Cosette interrupted. She smiled sadly at him, twirling in his direction. She continued to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but stared intensely at him. "You see, the man and the young woman had believed that they had gotten rid of the shadow that had plagued them for years, but it turns out they were mistaken. It was only after the man had entered into God's gates that the shadow dared to reemerge. This time, it was determined to become a permanent fixture in the young woman's new life."

Cosette paused again. She took a couple of steps forward, her eyes darting down for just an instant. She was quick to regain that courage and determination that had shined in her gaze just a minute or two previously. This was what set Javert's nerves wild. It was that knowing and not-so-forgiving look. Yet, she maintained her sly smile. The tears still stung the edges of her eyes. Her hands still intertwined nervously in front of her. Perhaps, though, that was all part of the illusion.

"All that young woman wants is peace and solitude after so many years of discord," she informed. "So, can you tell me, Inspector Javert, what does this shadow have purposed for his resurrection?"


	9. Harmony

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note:** Again, I apologize about the lengthy intermission between chapters. I am still looking to end the story soon and more or less being led by the characters now toward the outcome. I want to try to keep the characters true to their original nature, while still attempting to portray how they would now be changed. If that makes sense…So I do apologize if their behavior in these last chapters strays from whatever it is you believe them to be. It is a very fine balancing act I attempt, and, I will always be the first to admit, I am not always successful.

**Chapter 9**

- Harmony

He realized instantly, with dread, that she had said his name—his true name. However, he was so struck with horror at the revelation that he could not move. He could not speak. In fact, it was a wonder at all that he still managed to breath. He used the important seconds that passed to determine how exactly he was going to react and what he would do. As he saw it, there were two options at his disposal.

Option one, he could completely succumb to the new persona he was meant to adopt. He could consider what it was that Jori would do and thus react. He could take into consideration the past—what had happened back then; how he had affected the lives of his host and hostess and shaped their current situation. He could certainly determine what it was exactly that he owed them for how he had behaved long ago. He supposed that his new character would throw himself at the hem of her gown and beg forgiveness for having ever caused her harm in the first place.

Option two, he could finally become who he truly was. That would mean becoming Javert once again.

Perhaps the most determining factor in his rough decision was the young woman standing before him. Needless to say, mixed with the slew of other emotions currently raging within him, he felt disappointment—disappointment over the fact that Cosette was unable to see past his old self and the man he once was; disappointment that she would only ever see him as Inspector Javert.

Therefore, Javert stood up to face Cosette, quite unexpectedly. The old scowl returned to mar his features, thus transforming his appearance into the recognizable inspector of the past. Cosette was quite taken aback by this sudden brash action. She inadvertently took a single step backward and her hand rushed to her chest in surprise. Yet, she managed to maintain eye contact, which had certainly been a feat with the old inspector.

"I see now that you will always have this prejudice," he announced bluntly, causing her cheeks to become rosy. "I will always be Inspector Javert to you."

"What would you have of me?" she peeped. "That is who you are. You cannot escape from it."

"Yes, but there is always a chance to change." He strode past her, pacing back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. "Do you think I have just been laying in wait for a chance to strike at you when you least expect it? Or did it ever cross your mind that perhaps you are not the only two attempting to move on with your life?"

Javert stopped in front of the window and stared out at it. His eyes went unseeing, as his mind worked and occupied his attention. He breathed deeply, his heart pounding with the adrenaline and exertion. He had secretly hoped that the brief pause would allow Cosette to utter some words of reassurance. For one reason or another, he hadn't given up on her yet.

"You know," he began softly, rather nervous to continue, "we are not so different, you and I. Perhaps that was what attracted me to you initially. You were born of a common whore, but so was I. When we are dealt such a fate, there are only two choices: we can either succumb to the expectations of our birth or we can rise above it. I made my decision. I chose to follow the path that the convict that I had been conceived from never did. Instead of working outside of the law, I decided to follow within its confines."

He sighed. "But you." He pivoted around slowly to look at her. His gaze was cold and hard. It bore into little, petite Cosette. "You have somehow flourished despite the world you were born into. But perhaps what is curious most of all is that you managed to accomplish this without having to sacrifice either body or soul."

Cosette studied his eyes, which held the most sincerity she had ever known, as well as the greatest sadness she had seen in a while. He was attempting to hold his resolve, but there were so many answers that he sought. He sought her out to show him the path that he had somehow overlooked.

"I wasn't able to survive alone," she managed, regaining her ground, but still quite unsure of the situation. "There was one man who lighted the way for me. If it wasn't for him, I am sure my life would be fairly different now."

Javert chuckled, which turned into a throaty and incredulous laugh. He shook his head, turning away again. "Yes, Jean Valjean." He said the name with such distaste, his lip curling in disgust. "This may come as quite a surprise to you, but I no longer hate the man. Do you know why I made it my duty to track him down for all of those years?"

He checked her over his shoulder and when she didn't respond, he continued. "Honestly, the man was an enigma to me. How was it possible that a felon could alter all of my expectations, all of my beliefs? How could he completely shift everything that I had known? It was necessary that I bring him to justice in order to satisfy my own desires. I needed to see him as the convict that he was so that my world would remain whole. After all, who ever heard of an escaped parolee releasing the man who had hunted him for years when holding his life in his hands?" He paused dramatically, studying his reflection in the darkened glass. "That was why I jumped," he admitted. "My entire world had shattered. I knew nothing. How could I continue to live with the realization that my entire life had been a lie?"

Cosette studied his back. There was little else she could do. She was afraid to say a word, even mutter a peep. There was no telling where exactly he was headed with this speech. She was intrigued to see it to its end, as well as invested at that point. When silence befell the room, she was unsure whether or not she should fill the gap. She opened her mouth to say something. In fact, anything would do at that moment. But, before any sound could issue forth, Javert interrupted.

"You are probably wondering why I am imparting all of this to you?" Javert pivoted on his heel to face her again. "You are probably asking yourself why now?" He shrugged, taking a step or two closer to her. "No real reason, I suppose. Maybe you remind me a little of him. Maybe you, too, are somewhat of an enigma to me. Like Valjean, you seem to turn my world upside down and make me question everything about it."

"Sir," she addressed, for his presence now called for such formalities, "you hardly know me. You hardly know anything about me. I do not understand. How is it possible I can impact your life so?"

Javert stepped closer to her. She was very aware of their proximity. The blush on her cheeks told of that. He towered over her, threatening and bold. Yet, she knew she had to maintain her ground. She refused to back down or to show any weakness whatsoever. Not only was defiance quite apparent on her mind, but she was also drawn to his fervor.

"Don't you see, Cosette? I do not have to know every detail about you because I am you. You are me. We are one in the same, but told through different stories and different circumstances." His voice remained level and calculating. There was no sign of enthusiasm or depression. It was simply Javert.

"Therefore," he continued on, "you must understand why I cannot linger another moment here with you. It is destructive to merely be in your presence any longer. It is clear that I am only and always will be Inspector Javert to you. I know now that you will not alter your perspective of me anytime soon. But, perhaps, just perhaps, I can make it possible someday."

There was no telling what came over her. It could have been her emotions completely invested in that moment. It could have been the spark in the way he looked at her. It could have even been that she knew precisely what he meant and how he felt. Everything he spoke was true. She knew that, but she had never realized before just how much she could relate to him.

It could have been all of those possibilities, but in that moment she didn't consider any of them. For, in that instant, she took hold of him and drew him in toward her, while simultaneously drawing herself closer to him. It was in that instant that she laid her lips upon his—that she forced herself into a kiss that bonded the two in the moment.


	10. The Face of the Past

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note:** I was very pleased with the reaction toward the last chapter. I thought people would be too shocked and appalled, but it looks like there is love for Javert yet. However, I do want to make it clear that I do not ship Cosette and Javert. It is a little tough to explain, but it is more of an understanding that they share, I guess. It is like they came from nothing and both created lives for themselves, though they are very different. Kind of like a mutual understanding or something. Yeah…Like I said, a little difficult to explain.

**Chapter 10**

- The Face of the Past

It was shock. No, it was utter astonishment. Javert had no idea how to react to the sudden and unexpected display of affection. In all honesty, his experiences with the opposite sex under such circumstances had been fairly limited in his lifetime. After all, it was quite difficult to get close to the ones you despise. Therefore, it was appropriate to say that Javert was out of his depths in that moment.

Though startled, he was still not without his wits. Javert knew that this kiss did not derive from a place of passion and love. Despite not having much experience in the area, he was still capable of recognizing the comprehension and sympathy behind the action. It had been merely conducted out of kindness for a shared plight. That, perhaps, was why it was so easy for him to grasp her shoulders and detach himself from her warm lips.

He held her at arm's length, bowing his head to suck in some air and to come to a decision. Needless to say, the embrace had confused him more than anything. He had assumed Cosette had no other opinion of him than his former self. Yet, she had shown him even the slightest kindness and understanding by kissing him. It wasn't in him to allow her to continue and not do anything about it.

Cosette grew uncomfortable in the silence that had ensued. She sucked in a sob, the first of what would become full on crying if she didn't act presently. "Monsieur," she proclaimed, attempting to study his features, but afraid to move at all, "please reconsider these ideas of yours. Perhaps I was too hasty in my present opinions. You words have touched me. Really, they have."

Javert scoffed, which startled Cosette. Even with this utterance of indifference, sadness was still present in his eyes and disappointment still weighed on his shoulders. "Your attempt comes too late, I am afraid." He raised his head so that he could gaze upon her lovely, but devastated features. "I just thought that perhaps you would have been different from everybody else—maybe you would have been the one person to give me a second chance. It's just not possible, though."

"Of course it is possible. Please, you cannot say that," Cosette urged.

He shook his head. "Do you know why I believed in you Cosette?" She could not utter a response or motion an answer. "It is not only our parallels, but it is also because of _him_."

"Him," Cosette whispered breathlessly, as soft as a whisper. Her tone was not necessarily questionable, but it certainly lacked knowledge.

"Jean Valjean." Javert paced away, still attempting to compose himself and to find his words. He had to admit that he had never been more uncomfortable in his entire life. This was certainly a situation he had never found himself in before. "Did you know that my life had fallen right into Valjean's hands once? Can you imagine? After all that I had put him through, he set me free. He gave me my life back without hesitation. I suppose I figured he would have passed along the same compassion."

Cosette had not moved from her spot. In fact, she could not move. "He taught me well, monsieur, I assure you."

"Then why do you stand judge over me even now?" he screamed, turning on her. He breathed for a few seconds, taking in her expression of fear and shock. She bit her lip to stifle a peep of frightened surprise. Javert shook his head, calming a bit. "I see clearly now that I was mistaken. There is no longer any place for Javert."

Being near the meager table where he kept his few belongings, he was able to gather what little he had in one handful. This consisted of simply the change purse and the extra clothing that he had arrived with. With these articles in hand, he spun back toward Cosette. "Forgive me," he muttered.

Javert swept out of the room without another word. It was obvious that he meant to leave and never return. It was also apparent that his last words had meant more than just what they seemed. Not only did he ask forgiveness for startling her with his tone during the conversation or his sudden departure, but he was also apologizing for ever having entered her life again. He had never meant to disrupt her life, which is precisely what it seemed at the end. And, for that, he needed forgiveness.

Marius discovered Cosette's whereabouts a couple hours later. She had collapsed onto the cot, weeping silently into one of the pillows. He rushed to her side, despite the darkness the room was now washed in and the strange state he discovered her in.

"Cosette, what is wrong?" he questioned frantically, rubbing her back. "What has happened?"

Immediately his mind swirled with ideas on the matter. Being in the room that Javert had previously occupied did not help these suspicions. But his concern was solely on his beloved wife and comforting her in her apparent sorrow.

Cosette sucked in a breath and raised herself off of the mattress and the pillow to focus on her husband. Yet, she found she could not formulate detailed enough sentences just yet. She was still attempting to suck in enough breath in which to operate by.

"He," she stammered between sobs, "He's gone."


	11. Stars

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspect or variation of Les Miserables. That genius belongs to Victor Hugo and all of those who followed.

**Title:** Reprieve

**Summary:** Sometimes life gives us a second chance, but are we too weak to take advantage of this gift? Javert had thought he would die; he had hoped he would die. However, it seemed that life had not finished with him just yet. How can he hope to make a new start with all that had transpired? Life has an answer to that, as well.

**Author's Note:** I just wanted to say that Cosette's final words last chapter were intended to be indiscriminate between Javert and Valjean. I know that seems strange, but her confused feelings in the moment and seemingly shattered self image may cause her to react that way, in either circumstance. On another note, this is going to be the final chapter in this story. I was so unsure how to end this story, so I hope it isn't unsatisfying. I wanted Javert's existence to remain a mystery. As to what happens to him after this, nobody knows. I also wanted to show almost an understanding from Marius, though that may seem kind of unlikely. But, anyway, I hope that you all enjoyed this. Thank you for following this little idea.

**Chapter 11**

- Stars

Cosette remained despondent for days. Marius, though try as he might, was incapable of comprehending what could have kept her in that state; and even Cosette couldn't be absolutely positive about what plagued her so. Javert had hardly made an indent in their lives with his reemergence, and his influence in the past was not what they would call positive. However, that didn't stop Marius from believing his sudden absence to be the exact cause of Cosette's tears, no matter how much he just did not understand it.

Javert's final words to her stuck with Cosette. It burned into her heart, causing her to rethink all that she had thought she had known. She had always had a certain perspective of herself and her life—modeled after what she believed Valjean would approve of. He led her in everything. But, she suddenly felt like she had failed in this pursuit of perfection. After all, Valjean had been able to forgive the man who had plagued his life for so many years when she seemed incapable of doing so.

Despite her dejection, Cosette managed to robotically maneuver throughout her everyday life. Yet, it appeared empty efforts to her husband. Marius couldn't help but worry over his precious bride. It was dawning on a week with her continuous brooding when Marius decided that he had had enough. He confronted her after supper one evening when the pair was occupying the quiet sitting room.

"Cosette, my love, will you not tell me what plagues you?" Marius pleaded, kneeling at her feet and staring up into her face.

Cosette, who had been solely distracted sitting and staring out of the window, had turned her head in his direction upon his first maneuver to his knees. Now, it was evident that tears were beginning to sting her eyes.

She shook her head. "How could you understand?" She sniffled.

Marius took her hands, resting their entwined fingers in her lap. "Please, if only just to unburden yourself. Darling, I am worried about you."

Cosette took a deep breath to steady herself and come to a decision. She adored Marius more than anything else in the world. She couldn't stand to see him pained and upset.

"You were not aware of this," she began carefully, "but I knew all along that our guest was Javert—the same man from our past, and I had met with him the night he left."

"That would explain where I found you," Marius thought aloud.

"Yes," she confirmed. "There was something I needed to ask him about then he turned the entire conversation around. You see," she paused momentarily, "he had mentioned how alike we are. That was why he was drawn here."

"You two are nothing alike, Cosette!" Marius shot in, defiant.

"But we are!" Cosette insisted, standing and moving away. She turned toward the window and the starry sky beyond. "That was what I have come to understand, Marius. It seems absolutely absurd, but we actually are quite similar. I thought that if I were like anybody it would be Valjean, the man who raised me, and perhaps I do still reflect some of his teachings; but it is really Javert that my life is most similar to."

Marius stood, as well. He was ready to ask all of the questions that were swirling in his mind. At the same time, he wanted to understand, and for that he needed her to continue. She spun slowly toward him again, the hem of her gown circling about her thin ankles.

"Our stories correspond all too well, Marius," she explained carefully. "Even to the point where we both just happened to be changed forever by a mere convict." She scoffed, shaking her head. "Of course he is more than that. But that is precisely where he started, isn't it?"

She raised her eyes, questioning and unsure. Marius wished he could provide answers, but it seemed as if he were not sure of anything anymore. He had heard it himself from the man's own lips. He had been told Valjean's life story and how he had come to possess Cosette. It actually had made him respect and love the man even more—to think that one's fate could alter so drastically.

"Jean Valjean had the choice of life or death for Javert once," she whispered. "In his eyes, Javert believed I held the same power. And perhaps I did. Perhaps by not seeing through the past I condemned him." She stifled a cry of anguish so that it released as a squeak. "Jean Valjean had given Javert his life back, but what have I done? I killed him instead."

Cosette began to break down, but Marius was there to catch her as she sank to the ground and comfort her in his arms. He petted the back of her head lovingly, cooing to her. "You are the most loving and kind person I have met. I owe that all to Valjean, so it astounds me when you say that you cannot see his influence in your character." He held her back gently and looked at her. "You cannot hold yourself responsible for Javert, my love. If he learned from Valjean like he said he did then he will have no problem surviving out there. Just look." He turned his head toward the window and the black night outside of it. Cosette did the same, following his gaze to the heavens. "Those stars are ever altering in the sky. That doesn't mean they change their composition or their makeup, does it? Javert is like those stars. He may attempt to alter his person, but there will always be a core that is unchanging."

Marius looked back onto Cosette and smiled. He couldn't believe he was smiling. After all, he was speaking about the man who had murdered his friends. It was the same man who had haunted Cosette for years. The one who had stalked Valjean, Marius' own savior. Yet, Marius smiled, reassuringly, straight from his heart.

"And, like the stars, there will always be a Javert."


End file.
